Curiosity Killed the Cat
by MadamMistress
Summary: Sherlock on Watson and what never was.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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He blamed his curiosity.

Well, his curiosity and his disbelief in the commonly held values of the time. It was true, some of the values were in line with his, but he knew the common masses were often wrong. They had believed the earth was flat at one point, after all.

He supposed he had been right too many times to actively check himself. His curiosity had saved his life more times than he could count. And now, now…

It started as an idle thought. A passing curiosity. He never expected this. And that, he supposed, is where he went wrong. But how was he supposed to know this would happen? Well, in all honesty, once he got interested in something, it consumed him. He knew that. So perhaps he should have expected this. Still, it was hardly enjoyable in this instance.

He would admit he had been rather unnerved when he first found himself noticing the features of a man with a pleased eye. But then he also noticed a woman with the same eye. Luckily, he was working on a case at the time, and didn't have time to extrapolate this to the natural conclusion. He was glad to finish the case, a simple one, and meditate on this new discovery of himself with a focused mind: without any distractions. His conclusion was simple. He was attracted to both men and women. Simple. Fascinating.

Sexuality was unfortunately an uncommon subject among his acquaintances. But after carefully idle talk and observation, he found not many people were attracted to both sexes. Or at least, they were not attracted to both sexes in the same way. Not like him. That was unsurprising, however, as very few people were like him.

This was before he met Watson, of course. He was glad of this, as it would have been exceedingly awkward to go about discovering this with Watson living with him.

But since he knew himself better than most could claim to know themselves, he wasn't altogether surprised when he woke up aching after a rather pleasant dream staring Watson. By this time, however, he knew Watson well enough to be able to say with absolute certainty that Watson was very much in favor of a woman's gentle touch. He had no wish to ruin a friendship with one of the few people he trusted over something that would never—could never—be.

And then there was the matter of Irene Adler. Watson believed he was in love with her. He wasn't wrong, of course, Watson knew him too well to be wrong. What Watson was wrong about was assuming Irene was the only one he loved. He knew Watson would be able to tell he wasn't being completely honest with him if he admitted his affection for Irene, so he denied it. Watson would not know.

Some days he found himself close to telling him. He always managed to control the impulse. He had long since decided not to tell.

Then Watson met Mary. He wasn't worried at first, but then Watson started talking of marrying the girl. He wanted to introduce her to him. He couldn't bear it. He didn't want to meet her. She was stealing Watson from him.

He felt childish.

He threw himself into the cases and his experiments. Well, more so than he had been. He had been using the experiments as a way to resist the man sleeping just down the hall. Now, he was using them as a way to forget who wasn't sleeping down the hall. It was awful. He couldn't win. He would lose Watson either way.

Then Watson told him that the Blackwood case would be their last together. He was tempted, for a brief second, to drag it out. He didn't, of course. For one, innocent girls were dying; for another, he knew Watson would be able to tell.

And then things got interesting. Lord Blackwood "rose from the dead." He was thrown in jail. Again. He met the secret head of the Temple of the Four Orders, who later turned up dead. Irene came back and had a client she was scared of. It was like a breath of fresh air.

He knew he had a tendency to focus on one thing and devote his mind to it. It's one of the reasons he was such a good consultant.

It also made him slightly obsessive.

So he was slightly relieved when the Lord Blackwood case was reopened. It gave him something else to focus on. It gave him perspective.

He might be losing Watson, but it was his own damn fault. He had chosen to say nothing, and now he was suffering the consequences. He had had plenty of opportunities to drop hints, or, at the very least, get Watson extremely drunk. Perhaps he could still – but no. He couldn't do that. It was obvious Watson was in love with Mary. He _did_ have morals, despite what some thought. So he would back off. He would lay off the plots and, hopefully, retain Watson as his close friend.

That would have to be enough.


End file.
